


A Modest Proposal

by SupposedToBeWriting



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: First Meetings, Going On Our Trip To Our Favorite Lonely Skip, M/M, Manipulation from both parties, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26422741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupposedToBeWriting/pseuds/SupposedToBeWriting
Summary: To Elias' delight, he receives a letter stating that Nathaniel Lukas is nearing death and his only eligible son, Peter Lukas, will be the new Lukas family head. When he arrives at the Lukas estate, however, Elias realizes that he's not the only one with a gift for manipulation. It's almost admirable, really.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 7
Kudos: 82





	A Modest Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Manipulation, some BRIEF mentions of eye-related body horror, sort-of arranged marriage (not really? mostly blackmail-induced marriage, anyway)

Elias stared up at the massive estate in front of him. Tudor-Gothic by design, though it’d been built as part of a revival craze back in the 18th century. It was somewhat amusing to think of Mordechai Lukas as a victim to the same whims as the architecture community at large. Realistically, however, Elias was more inclined to believe that something about this dreary, isolated style sang out to him.

Large turrets dotted here and there along the stone walls, reflecting against heavy cloud cover. Thick gray roofing that seemed to grow even dimmer when struck by direct sunlight like a massive blanket. Massive ornate glass windows that were eternally covered in thick red, dusty drapery. A meticulously maintained garden that made one feel that, if one just stuck around long enough, they’d be invited to a little party on the estate grounds. The Lukas estate was a fortress for a battle that would never come.

At first, all Elias could hear was the clicking of his recovering car engine behind him. As to be expected, Elias couldn’t even hazard a guess to the location of the sun up above. A low fog hung around the trees encircling the Lukas estate, identical for miles and miles. It had taken some time for him to drive up here, even with the benefit of Knowing the exact address. He had passed a small village on the way, full of villagers with pale, blank faces and shivering, twitchy bodies. It had been noon, then, and he could’ve heard a pin drop in the village square. He tried to peer inside their minds and found little activity. Certainly nothing even remotely appetizing, nothing that would hold him over for his trip.

Christ, but did he _hate_ visiting the Lukases.

Back when it had been Mordechai as the sole occupant, Elias (Jonah, then, how distant the name seemed to him now) would often make the trek up to this little estate. He would have his bag with him, filled with all manner of arcane books and trinkets, though Mordechai didn’t seem to be particularly enthused. Not the way the others were. No, it was the hardest to pique Mordechai’s interest, but Elias had been persistent.

He had shown him a small, palm-sized harp, once. A quick stroke of it would cause the entire room to go silent, even if a firearm had been discharged just moments before. Mordechai had _delighted_ in that, and that was when Elias felt the tides begin to change.

While he preferred a glass of red wine by the cozy fire in their grand sitting room, Elias had realized very early on that he would have to bend somewhat for Mordechai to actually agree to fund his little idea. And so, when he’d next arrived to the Lukas estate, he’d worn his hiking attire and brought a hound with him.

An ounce of vulnerability was worth double its weight in gold. The wordless _see, I trust you, I’m going into the lonesome wood with you, we’re two allies in this strange life of ours._ An hour into their walk, Elias had fondly exclaimed that Mordechai was such a talented and admirable man, truly beyond contempt, and was there _anything_ reproachable Mordechai had ever done?

There, far from the Lukas estate, he had utilized his newfound ability, granted to him by his patron. Elias had been nervous, that was true, because the strange _hiss_ that had laced underneath his words seemed as loud as an avalanche. _Surely,_ Mordechai would find out that he could compel people. Mordechai would rend him limb from limb and Elias’ grand plans would be bonedust. He would be known as the strange arcane little man who had simply crossed the wrong man.

Instead, Mordechai had cheerfully chirped in with … heavens, what had it even _been,_ again? It seemed so little and pointless now. Inadvertently getting a few workers killed, beating a man in a drunken rage, having a child with someone who was not his wife? Elias pursed his lips and found that he couldn’t well remember. Hm. What he _could_ remember was his own reaction, how he had remarked that that was all perfectly forgivable in the grand scheme of things – after all, mortals were but ants.

And Mordechai hadn’t realized. Instead, he had smiled – Mordechai rarely ever smiled – and clapped a hand on Elias’ shoulder, and Elias knew in that moment, Mordechai would have followed him through the gates of hell if he asked.

That Elias would have gladly and gleefully blackmailed him with whatever secrets he shared during that hike through the woods was besides the point. Mordechai trusted him, and blackmailing wouldn’t be necessary.

When he’d been marking his actions down in his journal, he was surprised at how harsh they seemed to the untrained observer. He didn’t dislike Mordechai. Mordechai was a dear friend. When work was not on the mind (rare, yes, but it did happen), Elias was delighted to have dinner with him and pool their knowledge of history, architecture, philosophy. Elias was not born wealthy, and had thus educated himself in such a manner to make himself appear well-to-do from birth. Mordechai was one of the few who knew that Jonah Magnus had scraped together all that he had had, and had never judged him poorly for it. Elias still missed him intermittently. Dear Mordechai, who examined brandy glasses like they were precious crystal and whose laugh wouldn’t disturb the most timid churchmouse.

Thus, the cooperation between the Lukases and Jonah Magnus had begun. His involvement with them waxed and waned, depending on who held the governing seat at the time. They always funded the Institute, of course, and in return Elias would lend a hand here and there if they needed willing bodies for the grinder. By nature, Elias felt like the Eye and the Lonely got along rather well, practically bedmates – a vivisected individual, with their dirty secrets exposed to the world, would _euphorically_ enter the Forsaken. They would see it as a reprieve. People were so short-sighted that way.

Perhaps as a show of respect, Elias was thusly invited to all Lukas weddings and funerals. He attended only the latter. From a managerial point of view, only the latter really mattered – who _cared_ what delirious, well-meaning fool entered the family through vows? He only really needed to know who left it, as the Lukases hadn’t been blessed with the longevity of the Fairchilds or the ingenuity of Magnus. They were pleasant little affairs, anyway. Well-catered. No crying. Quiet. Almost relaxing, in their own way.

Nathaniel Lukas, the current elderly chair, hadn’t wanted Elias’ involvement much. It had gotten to the point where Elias made an offer to come visit him, to discuss Institute matters, only to be rebuffed every time. Nathaniel seemed keen only to send the money and his regards. Elias found it frustrating. Without a personal connection to Nathaniel, how could he intend to know what the man planned on doing? The greater machinations of the Lonely? How could he possibly manipulate Nathaniel to his own ends if need be?

But by far the most irritating thing that Nathaniel Lukas had done to him was have _five god-blessed children._

_Five._

Elias had despaired with every announcement he received about their birth, back when he had been James Wright. _Five?_ Five potential heirs to the Lukas family seat. Five souls to keep track of, monitor, befriend, _manipulate._ It was four additional headaches that he didn’t have the time to manage, not when he intended to complete his larger goal within the next century. Why on God’s green earth was a man so devoted to _loneliness_ so keen on _fornication?_

It was that very thought that granted Elias an idea.

Most of the Entities cared not a whit for friends, lovers, family. A man could be with his love of the life and be taken by the Slaughter just as easily as a man alone. The Eye (and for that matter, the Web) _preferred_ those with more connections – more secrets to keep, of course. But connections actively damaged the Lonely, to a degree where Elias suspected that a strong enough bond between only two people would be enough to drag someone right out of their own little pocket dimension of isolation. And, accordingly, right out of the Lukas family will.

He had worn many different hats over the years: murderer, manipulator, burglar, mad scientist, workman, innovator, revolutionary – why not matchmaker?

Finding two compatible people was not difficult. Elias had become old hat at reducing people to a number of easily manipulated variables.

The two eldest sisters, twins, went to go study at a school abroad. Gone from the protection of the Lukas estate, Elias had no trouble finding out their preferences and desires – one preferred women, the other had no preference, but they both had held a lingering, rebellious doubt about the Lukas family’s ideals to loneliness. One liked science fiction novels. The other liked woodworking.

Elias had engineered an empty room in the flat next to them. Accordingly, he had filled that vacancy with two friends themselves: an imaginative astronomer and the other a wood-painting artist. Both would grant the two Lukases the company they secretly craved without being overwhelming, and it did not take long for the four individuals to meet on a bright, sunny day in a crowded American park.

Both sisters announced that they would not be returning to the Lukas estate within six months of meeting their lovers. Nobody ever suspected Elias’ involvement – and why would they? Nathaniel had rebuked all of his invitations to come to the estate.

Child’s play. And, privately, Elias wished them well. He couldn’t imagine just how _irritating_ home-life with the Lukases must be.

After the two eldest were gone, Elias had waited a few years to prevent suspicion from brewing. His shock was palpable when he’d learned that the youngest two siblings had been deemed unfit to follow the Lonely, and had thus been ex-communicated from the family themselves. No work required on his part. Five went down to one. Ten years would pass, including a switch into Elias Bouchard’s body, before he got news from that family again. It had been one week ago.

The news was _good._ Nathaniel Lukas was deathly ill and bed-ridden; his wife hadn’t left the estate in thirty years and showed no urge to do so. Their middle child, Peter Lukas, would shift into taking on most of the responsibilities of the Lukas family to the Lonely.

A new body for himself and a new head for the Lukas family. If only Gertrude Robinson would participate in his schemes a little more willingly, Elias Bouchard would be a man devoid of worry. He _liked_ when things went his way.

Peter Lukas had written to _him_ personally, announcing the news and requesting his presence at the Lukas estate. _Bold._ A fresh new change, one which Elias was grateful for. Even if the Lukas estate generally made his head feel like someone had stuffed sand between his ears, Elias was keen to see if he could dig his claws into the Lukas family once more. He hummed a jaunty little tune to himself while he walked up the path to the front door.

A pale-faced, cloudy-eyed butler let him in. Elias murmured his warm thanks and stared intensely into the butler’s eyes – the ancient codger let out a soft _‘oh’_ of pain and shuffled off into places unknown.

Even as work-obsessed as he was, it was pleasant to think that he could still have fun every now and then. Elias allowed himself a little smile.

He patiently unwound his scarf from around his neck. Next came the black leather gloves, gingerly placed inside his coat pocket. He slowly worked the buttons on his long black coat as if he’d just encountered buttons for the first time in his life. In truth, Elias was dead focused on _observation_.

The act of Seeing was _much_ harder in the Lukas estate than anywhere else on the globe. He wouldn’t dare try to jump behind a Lukas’ eyes while he was in their own estate; he doubted he’d be able to remove the fog from his brain for weeks after.

Additionally, the Lukas _despised_ having portraits done of themselves. Several priceless landscapes were on the wall, with gaps in them where ostensibly a Lukas caricature _would_ be done, but finding any actual eye illustrations in the manor were difficult.

Thankfully. The Eye was merciful, if only to him. The definition of an eye was … broad.

The eye gaps in a helmet on a suit of armor. Elias found himself brushing his eyesight along a deserted corridor. The taxidermy eyes of a mounted deer. A roaring fire, two poured drinks, but no sign of Peter Lukas. The wooden eye indentations on an owl statue that Elias had himself gifted to Mordechai Lukas. A barely stirring Nathaniel Lukas, with his wife Marie reading patiently on the other side of the room.

Hm. No sign of his host, but no more waiting to be done. Elias finally removed his coat and placed it on the rack. Underneath, he tugged his vest down over his immaculate white shirt. Gold buttons, gold chain. It always did well to dress richly when visiting rich, a lesson that he had learned from Mordechai some time ago.

He knew that he wouldn’t be escorted anywhere. Whether from shyness or ignorance, nobody had ever shown him around the Lukas estate. Peter would find him, eventually. Elias doubted that any Lukas was unaware of his presence, now. He would describe himself and his Avatar status optimistically as the sun peeking through heavy cloud cover, though they would more accurately describe him as one thorn growing on a rose bush. It seemed unfair that they could sense him so keenly, when Elias could only be aware of a cloudy _mush_ of the Lonely on these grounds. Elias stepped forward, his black Oxfords deafening.

At least he knew where to go from his investigations, and Elias was glad for it. Drinks and a fire with Mordechai had always been a pleasant way to spend an evening. The Lukases had _very_ good taste in booze. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too dreadful with Peter. Sometimes it was too dreadful with Mordechai, especially when he got into his preaching mood.

The fire roared to an empty room as Elias stepped in. The very same room that he’d sat many long evenings before, though refurbished and updated over the years. Elias noted that the bookshelves were the same. Their contents weren’t, but nevertheless seemed to be gathering dust. The newest generation of Lukases were not pervasive readers, then. Beyond the chairs in front of the fire, the only other notable feature of the room was a small wooden staircase leading to the bedrooms above.

God only knew how long he’d have to wait here on his own. The Lukases were shown a patience that Elias reserved for no other people. He sat on the sofa, took a glass, sniffed it appreciably (oh, _gin!),_ and waited. He flicked through the available eyes in the estate and found nothing, heard nothing, until -

_Creeaaaaaaaak._

Startled by the loud noise in the otherwise silent mansion, Elias shot a look over the back of the sofa at the wooden staircase. Peter Lukas was standing at the top of it, his face entirely red. Their eyes met.

_Goodness._ Peter Lukas was his age. Elias Bouchard’s age, anyway, no more than thirty. It was strange not to look on the face of a Lukas and see grey hair, wrinkles, gnarled joints. Peter Lukas was broad and tall. He had loosely curly brown hair that had been tugged back into a low ponytail, and _oh god above_ he was wearing a sailor’s cap. There was a tiny anchor pin on his lapel.

People accused _him_ of being dramatic. Yes, he had learned somewhere that Peter Lukas would be taking over the _Tundra._ Apparently he was truly dedicating himself to the part. The woolen _black_ overcoat he was wearing made him _look_ like he was a lighthouse keeper. He had to keep himself from snickering at the ridiculous get-up. _What a loser._ Elias supposed that those who grew up with limited social interaction and near-unlimited wealth did always turn out a little … odd.

Still, he had seen odder. Money was money, and Elias was not going to indulge himself to mock him.

“Mr. Lukas,” Elias greeted with a warm smile, rising from the sofa. Peter continued his descent down the staircase – silently this time. He could only wonder how Peter felt about all of this, his newfound head seat of his family – elated? Nervous? In his experience, there’d always been something a little empty inside most of the Lukases, but surely Peter couldn’t be _entirely_ void of emotions yet. “A pleasure to meet you. I was quite surprised to receive your invitation.”

When Peter approached, Elias found that he had to look up to see him. Not taller by much, perhaps a matter of two inches. Still, it was noticeable, particularly when he was standing a hair too close for comfort. He stuck out a hand to shake, fully expecting that Peter not take it. Nathaniel never did, shying away from any sort of unnecessary human contact.

_(FIVE GOD-BLESSED CHILDREN.)_

Peter nearly broke his hand with the strength of his grip. It took nearly two hundred years of careful composure for Elias not to wince and break away, but Christ, he could feel his _bones_ in his skin. At least it was mercifully short – two quick pumps and then Elias’ hand wasn’t being pulled off. “As it is to meet you, Mr. Bouchard. I hope you didn’t find it difficult to get here.”

Oh _dear._ Nobody told him.

Somewhere, down in the wine cellar, if the original wood rafters were still there – there was a very small _Jonah Magnus_ carved there, a product of giddy whimsy when the place was being built.

There was no need to tell him the long and complicated history now, was there? He simply cleared his throat and shook his head. “I have a remarkable sense of direction. And the quiet is pleasant.” Elias gently inclined his head towards the sofa. An invitation. Peter took it, silently walking over (how odd it was, still! To hear Peter’s silent footsteps alongside the insistent click of his Oxfords) and taking a seat. Peter instantly lurched some of the gin down his gullet. “I understand that some congratulations are in order? To become head of the Lukas family is no small feat.”

Peter’s fingers went to wrap around the chain at his neck, the end of which was hidden under his coat. The Lukas family crest. The damn thing was dotted around the Lukas estate every which place. It bore a resemblance to a religious cross, and perhaps it once had been - Elias supposed that they were religious in their own way. Rather ornate sort of thing, though. Elias liked luxury as much as the next man, but that always seemed to be a bit … well. Gauche.

Then again, was he not wearing a pair of cufflinks shaped like eyes? To each their own.

“Yes. From what I’ve understood, most of the work doesn’t require my direct input.” Peter dragged his hand along his beard. This was the most successful Lukas, then? He seemed rather nervous. Elias tilted his head to the side curiously. He hadn’t ever known a Lukas to be _nervous_ before. Perhaps it was the social contact?

Thankfully, nervousness was easy enough to counter. Elias flashed a smile and took a sip of his drink. “Then I believe we’re kindred spirits, Mr. Lukas. You’re thrust to the head of the Lukas family and I’m thrust to the head of the Magnus Institute. I imagine my appointment was more sudden than yours, however.”

For the time being, the lie would be kept. Elias could already picture his apology when he had to come clean about his identity – at that point, they would be close enough to be on a first name basis. _I’m so sorry, Peter, I truly am. I didn’t mean to deceive you; you can just understand how precarious my position is. But I’ve come to trust you enough as an ally and, may I say, personal friend that I’d like to share this information with you willingly …_

The conversation was rote.

Peter’s fingers were still at his beard. Elias took another sip, slower, wordlessly urging Peter to do the same. Peter complied and knocked it back in one gulp with such smoothness that even Elias was impressed. But, Peter was silent after, just staring into the fire. Lukases had such dear blue-grey eyes. Clouds rolling in before a storm, really. _I think that’s a line I spoke to Mordechai once._

“What - “ Peter’s voice was roughened from the drink. He cleared it. “What are the obligations that my family has to your Institute?”

Straight-to-the-point, then. Elias put the glass down and smoothed his hands down his trouser knees. “Obligations?” He queried. “None. However, the Lukas family has been funding the Magnus Institute since its inception. In return, they of course have equal say in how the Institute progresses, and of course – “ Elias cleared his throat. “Certain favors have, historically, been given to your family due to their contribution.”

Nobody really minded if a staff member went missing here or there. A harried statement-giver ushered along somewhere calmer.

And yet, Peter still seemed agitated. He had stood up from the couch and moved to stare at the fire, his hands folding behind his back. Elias’ eyes flicked down to his fingers as a matter of course. Unmarried. Unlikely for that to last very long, though Elias didn’t personally think Peter would have any trouble with it. Lukases never seemed to.

“Mr. Lukas, if you’re somehow nervous about your family’s interaction with my Institute – my predecessor hardly met with yours, and matters progressed smoothly. Rest assured that Jonah Magnus was very thorough in documenting how to run the Institute.”

With Peter’s back to him, Elias spared himself a smug little smile.

His words didn’t seem to soothe Peter at all. Christ, he was getting _nowhere_ and Elias had to push down the urge to tell him to simply spit it out. Laced with irritation, Elias asked: “Is there something _specific_ that’s bothering you?”

“What if we didn’t? Hm?” His questions coming quick, Peter turned on his heel to face Elias again. Elias saw that his face had gathered into a furrowed frown. “What if we just – _stopped_ funding the Institute? If you’re speaking about the people that you provide us, we could find it ourselves. With, with technology these days – “ ‘Technology’ was spoken as though it were a dirty word. “We’ll always be able to find who we want.”

_Oh._

Elias quelled the concern, fear, and sheer rage building up in his chest. If he thought that Peter was truly going to withdraw funding for the Institute, he would’ve taken the fireplace poker and stabbed him to death right then and there.

He wasn’t a _neanderthal,_ however, and two hundred years had worked well to maintain his composure. Elias stood from his spot and took a step closer. “I have to say that this is coming as a shock.” It was. “I wasn’t aware that the Lukas family was growing unhappy with their partnership. Nathaniel didn’t write as often as my predecessor would have preferred, and most of the decisions were simply left to the board of investors. The loss would, of course, be devastating.”

They were standing squarely in front of the fire, now, facing one another. The fireplace poker was within grabbing distance of his left hand, if need be. Taller or not, a swift stab through the neck would sort out everyone’s problems. Elias didn’t like resorting to murder, but often, he was given very little choice in the matter.

Still, best not let his motivations show. “It would also be not a very good start to my tenure,” he added as a humble joke. Peter’s face didn’t twitch. “Is there anything the Lukas family would want in exchange for their continued cooperation?”

Really, Elias was willing to go quite far to keep the Lukas family appeased. If they wanted twice as many sacrifices as they were getting, Elias would have it arranged. More personal engagement with the Institute, it was done. Everything up to his Archivist, Elias was willing to negotiate.

Silence stretched on between them. Peter clearly knew what to ask; Elias could practically see the demand looming behind his eyes. To hell with Lukases and their minds filled with fog, Elias just wanted to climb in and see what they wanted so he could _do_ it already. He was just about to ask the question again in a more irritated tone before Peter jumped in again.

“Marry me.”

The shock registered in his eyes first, followed shortly by his legs. He took a staggering step backward as if he’d been slapped. “I – I _beg your pardon?”_ Elias choked out. Instinctively, a ghost of a smile playing on the edges of his lips, because this was such a _bizarre_ time for the Lukas family to develop a sense of humor.

Peter’s only response was to lightly cock his head to the side and repeat the demand. Elias could see that the anxiety seemed to have flowed out of him. Peter Lukas was now the visage of calm, and Elias felt like he’d been struck by lightning.

It took so _much_ to surprise him these days. Elias had truly felt that he’d seen it all - yes, of course his plans fumbled on occasion and he had to think on his feet. But generally, everything could be nevertheless planned for and handled appropriately. _This_ seemed to take the breath out of him entirely, and he could only stare at Peter with a breathless, open-mouthed _huh?_ _t_ hat felt considerably more Elias Bouchard than Jonah Magnus.

“Every Lukas who remains in the family has to get married?” Peter prompted in the tone of man unused to explaining himself. It was _condescending,_ and the justified outrage was enough to bring Elias back to his senses. “It’s tradition.”

Not so much _tradition,_ Elias supposed, as the inherent need to continue the family line and Mordechai Lukas’ own religious upbringing. The idea of fathering a childhood out of wedlock would have been abhorrent to him. Centuries of staying within their own circle as much as possible would have done little to change those foundational ideas.

But – well, for goodness’ _sake._ The idea itself was so absurd that he couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m hardly in a position to have _children_ with you,” Elias spat out mockingly, all traces of the friendly businessman gone. “Both in the biological sense and as a matter of _time._ I’m a very busy man.”

Frankly, the idea of having offspring had never crossed Elias’ mind – no, that wasn’t quite true, was it? It had before. When Jonah had first realized what would be needed to bring about the Beholding. A person marked by all of Smirke’s identified Entities? More, if Smirke’s classification hadn’t been adequate? It would take a lifetime – it would take _many_ lifetimes to accomplish such a goal.

And Jonah Magnus had but one. He had considered having an heir, though the ideal had no _real_ appeal to him, because what was the point in bringing about the Beholding if he was no longer around to witness it? Frankly, the notion had caused him to grow disillusioned with the entire idea, and his patron listened to his worries. And Jonah had Seen the answer. All it would take was a pen-knife and the courage to gouge his own eyes out.

Beyond that, no. Elias had never considered children.

“Then don’t.” Peter shrugged his large shoulders at him. “I’ve never been interested in fatherhood myself.”

“Then why get married at all? I can’t imagine you’re keen on the social aspect.”

The look Peter afixed him was dripping in derision and exasperation. Elias felt a vein twitch in his forehead. “ _Tradition,”_ he repeated himself.

There was no use in arguing with over two hundred years worth of simple-minded stubbornness. Much easier to re-direct the beetle rather than keep it from rolling dung altogether. Elias shifted into a small, breathy laugh of polite confusion. “I’m afraid you have me quite at a loss. I’m honored, of course,” he added, a light flush taking over his cheeks. “But you’re a good looking man yourself, and you stand to have access to a considerable amount of money. I can’t imagine why you would want to marry a man you’ve only just met.”

Each word was selected carefully, trying not to betray the utter shock in his voice. Lukases were strange, but _this_ was something else. Peter shrugged at him once more. “I don’t want to meet anyone else. I don’t like to be meeting people.” He frowned down at him. “I know I had to meet you, so it makes every bit of sense to me. Why shouldn’t I marry you?”

To that, he had no reply. The thought _because you barely know me_ came unbidden to his mind, but he imagined that quality was only more appealing to a Lukas. Elias looked up and saw that Peter’s eyes were set. In his mind, he had discovered the perfect solution. A person not in his family that he was not obligated to see for any amount of time. A person who, unfortunately speaking, needed something from him.

Need, Elias had long decided, was the source of all weakness. Christ, why did the Institute have to require _money?_

Elias’ fake warmth dripped away from his face. He straightened to his full height, eyes boring holes into Peter’s own. Peter stared back blankly. _I want to pry apart your skull,_ Elias thought fiercely, _I want to pry apart your very being and expose you to a million pairs of eyes. I want to tear you apart so thoroughly that everyone knows the name Peter Lukas._

“And I’m to understand,” Elias continued icily, “that you’ll withdraw funding from the Institute if I don’t go along with your request.”

For some reason, _that_ drew a laugh out of Peter. It was loud enough to make Elias jump – he’d never known a Lukas to _laugh_ quite so loudly. “Well, I really don’t think I’m asking for much, but if you _really_ put your foot down, I really don’t think I’ll have any other choice, will I?”

And it seemed they were at a stalemate. Peter needed marriage and Elias needed funding. His hands were tied.

What more was marriage, after everything Elias had given for this one single goal? Sometimes the enormity of it all weighed down upon him. The lives he had directly taken. The lives he had directly ruined. The lives he had directly _assumed_ as his own. The schemes, the plots, the negotiations. The morality of it had ceased to bother him long ago, but the _pressure_ of it all! The stakes increased with every sin he committed. It crushed his skull, it cracked his collarbones, it clenched his lungs, because if Elias did not complete this Ritual, then _what was it all for?_

“What – “ Oh. His voice sounded raspy. Elias cleared it. “What would my duties be? As a husband in the Lukas family?” Some things, Elias figured, could be negotiated on. He would not be living at the Lukas estate, for one.

Peter hadn’t considered the question. He pressed one calloused finger against his cheek, his lips pursing in thought. “A wedding, obviously.” _Christ._ Elias was exhausted already. “But beyond that – I don’t particularly want to see you. I have the _Tundra.” Then why don’t you go marry the boat, then._ “And there is a certain appeal in the partner fearing that their sailor will never come home.” _My sailor. I’m going to pluck your eyes from their sockets someday._

Testy, Elias remarked sharply: “You will have to return to London on occasion. Quarterly budgeting meetings and such for the Institute. Your input will be necessary.” It wasn’t, _no,_ but he did want to twist the knife a little. He wasn’t the only one going to suffer through all this. And, to his delight, Peter did seem visibly distressed at the very notion – but nevertheless nodded.

“Right, right. Well, I can understand why I would … why I would have to. I haven’t got a head for numbers, mind, and I can’t stand technology. Can’t imagine how much help I’d be with all that.”

He would not be, but it would grant Elias the rare sadistic glee he allowed himself to watch Peter squirm. They both fell silent in the understanding of what Elias’ answer would be – the only answer it _could_ be.

Elias summoned a breath. “Shall we celebrate our new betrothal with another glass of gin, Mr. Lukas?”

And, to his relief, Peter complied. He retreated to the small wooden table and filled up their glasses once more. They were both left there as he sat on the sofa, staring at the sofa. Elias took his own glass and sat on the opposite chair to stare at his new … _fiance,_ he supposed.

At least, being so tied to tradition as they were, Elias knew he would have to do no actual planning for the wedding. He would simply have to show up, and he had a feeling that Peter would be _delighted_ if Elias requested for no honeymoon.

This could be worked to his advantage. This _would_ be worked to his advantage, because Elias refused to be dangled like a puppet on a string. The gin burned down his throat and Elias let out a soft, nostalgic sigh. He’d sat on these chairs many times before, lifetimes ago, and he wondered how Mordechai would feel knowing that he was about to marry his … great-great-great grandson. Probably not _desperately well._

Mordechai was dead, and he was not. Someday Peter Lukas would be dead, and he would not. And someday, his plan would come into fruition and all his sacrifices would be the foundation of the changed world.

He spared a look towards Peter. He was looking blankly into the fire, twenty-thousand leagues away. Likely the Lukas estate had an effect on him, as it did anyone. Elias could feel the clouds creeping in the edge of his mind, softening him. “You ought to call me Elias,” he offered in a show of faux friendship. “It would be quite the thing, wouldn’t it, if you were to greet me as ‘Mr. Bouchard’ at our wedding.”

“Elias,” Peter repeated. He did not return the favor, and so Elias took it for himself.

“So, Peter.” Elias leaned back on the sofa, summoning all of his strength yet. “Am I to learn anything about you in the meanwhile?” A beat passed, and Elias savored the look of distress passing over Peter’s face. Oh, he _enjoyed_ making the man squirm. “There’s no need to look quite so _aghast._ I’m teasing.” The glass was brought up to Elias’ lips again, but he took no drink. Instead, he simply smiled around the glass, his eyes glittering at the man in front of him. Yes, he could see this working out quite well. “I’m sure I’ll find out everything I need to know in due time.”

He’d compel everything he needed to know later, when he found Peter outside of his place of strength. After all, if he was going to be meeting Peter more often – _marrying_ Peter – then that provided ample opportunity for manipulation. Peter Lukas probably thought he had Elias Bouchard over a barrel, but Elias was _confident_ that he would come out on top.

Nobody played him, or his patron, for a fool.

“Oh! Before I forget, there really is something you must know about me.” The rest of the gin slithered down his throat, and Elias placed the glass down. “I’m really much older than I look, you see ...”

**Author's Note:**

> Naming this piece 'a modest proposal' (a satirical pamphlet written by Jon Swift about why you should eat your children that most American students have to read in high school) wasn't the best idea, but I DO like the wordplay and the implication that Elias or Peter would eat their children if so pressured. 
> 
> I know the common fandom (...fanon? Meme?) interpretation is that Lukas and Bouchard are practically an old divorced couple, and I liked running with that idea in a very 'this is how two very evil villains would go about it' sort of way. I like the contrast there because both Elias and Peter are very evil people, but in two highly different ways with much different motivations. Obviously I don't think LonelyEyes by themselves are healthy, but can you really have 'healthy' with two big baddies?
> 
> Also, GOD it's nice to write something after nearly six months of not.  
> Thanks for reading!


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